Philippa stared back, her smile frozen as she searched her mind. “I do not even know a Viscount Darleigh.”
Her mother came across the room and seated herself on the end of her daughter’s bed. “He lives at Middlebury Park in Gloucestershire,” she explained. “It is quite famous, both for the magnificent mansion there and for the vast, landscaped park. And his fortune is said to be very large indeed. He is Mrs. Pearl’s grandson.”
Mrs. Pearl was a friend of Grandmama Dean in Bath. Though she had moved away a while ago, Philippa remembered, to live with her daughter at the home of her grandson.
Who was blind.
“He is blind, poor gentleman,” her mother said, dispelling any possibility that she was mistaken. “He lost his sight in battle in Spain or Portugal, where he was an artillery officer. He is still very young. His mother believes it is time he married.”
Philippa licked lips turned suddenly dry. “Mama—”
“Your father has received an invitation for us all to spend a week or two at Middlebury Park,” her mother said. “The poor gentleman is unable to come to town, and he cannot be overwhelmed by too large a house party. We are to be the only guests. Mrs. Pearl sent a letter with the invitation. She assured Papa that despite his affliction, the viscount is both handsome and personable.”
“Mama—”
“Philippa.” Her mother leaned eagerly toward her. “This is a wonderful opportunity for you. A dream come true. You could be betrothed within a month of your come-out, married before the Season ends. Think what a coup that would be. We could let the London house go early and return to Bath. You could be Viscountess Darleigh, mistress of Middlebury Park, wealthy and influential beyond your wildest dreams. You would have influence, you know. Doubtless your husband would depend upon you in all things. It is unfortunate, truly unfortunate, that he is blind. But if he is handsome and personable, I do not doubt you will come to care for him. You have always been a girl with tender sensibilities. You are kind and gentle. This would be a dazzling match for you. I scarcely believe it can be true.”
“But I have just made my come-out.” Philippa was almost whispering. “I have just begun to make friends here. We have accepted invitations for almost every day in the next month. Mama, I am happy here.”
“Of course you are,” her mother agreed. “You have taken extremely well, and I do not doubt that were we to remain here, Papa would be in receipt of more than one eligible offer for your hand before the Season is out. Probably not, however, one that goes with a title, a large estate, and a fabulous fortune. You are of excellent birth and lineage on both Papa’s side and mine, of course, and Papa can offer a respectable dowry with you. And you are very pretty. But without being either a peer’s daughter or in possession of a large fortune of your own, you know, you cannot aspire to a title or any great fortune in a husband. Or could not in the ordinary way of things. But now opportunity has fallen into your lap and those things and more can be yours. Will not such a triumph be worth the sacrifice of a couple of weeks of the Season? Perhaps all the rest of it too if you are successful? And I cannot see why you should not be. We have been invited for the specific purpose of presenting Lord Darleigh with a prospective bride.”
“I would far rather stay here,” Philippa said. “Mama—”
“Philippa.” Her mother got to her feet and took a few steps closer to her. Some of the brightness had gone from the young woman’s face. “You have always been such a good girl, and such a dutiful daughter and loving sister. Think of your papa now. He does not say a great deal, even to me, but I know he worries about the future, about not being able to provide as he ought for you girls and for Everett and Oswald. Everett talks about a military career after he has finished school, and of course he has his mind set on a prestigious regiment, and it has always been assumed that Oswald is for the church and therefore a few years at Oxford or Cambridge first. Think of what you could do for your sisters as Lady Darleigh. Think of how sad it would be for them if they were unable to have a Season like yours, if they could not have the opportunity to meet eligible husbands. Philippa, please. For Papa’s sake. He is so pleased at this flattering opportunity for you. And so relieved too.”
Philippa felt physically sick.
Julian should have come at the start of the Season after all. He was eligible. He was the grandson of the late Duke of Stanbrook and the nephew and heir presumptive of the present duke, his uncle, who had lost his only son in the wars and his wife soon after, and had assured Julian that he would have no other sons. And Julian had a more than comfortable fortune even apart from his future prospects. He had a sizable estate and farms in Cornwall, and they were prospering at last.
He was more than eligible, if he could only convince Papa that he was no longer the wild, rakish young hellion who had gone to rusticate with his uncle in Bath two years ago when London grew too hot for him. The same hellion who had been discovered sitting in Sydney Gardens one gala evening, holding sixteen-year-old Philippa’s hand.
But that was two years ago. An eon ago. Julian was perfectly eligible now, and he was coming to London to court her and offer for her.
How could she tell her mama that, though? As far as her parents knew, she had neither seen nor heard from him in two years. And even if she should tell her mother that Barbara had mentioned in this morning’s letter that he was coming to London, Mama would be displeased more than anything, for she would remember him as he was, or as he apparently was, when Papa had sent him packing—and Philippa had been sent to her room for two days of quiet reflection. And even if Mama was not displeased after all this time, she would nevertheless not understand that Julian was coming because he had loved Philippa unwaveringly for two years and loved her still, and because he was going to persuade Papa that he was a worthy suitor for her hand, that two years had made all the difference to his character and position and means.